Wanted: Dead or Dead
by isonicedyou
Summary: AU: Western United States 1911: Running away from the havoc she'd created for herself was so much more appealing up until now. There's something about a gunshot wound and a very persistent vulture that changes that feeling pretty quickly. Can a rugged outlaw really change their ways? Maybe it just takes a set of eyes as blue as the sky.
1. Preface

_August 18, 1911_

Hot sun blaring down. Check. Dirty, dusty desert floor beneath her. Check. Horrible headache. Definitely check. Queer squawking noise...Check.

A dark arm, beaten by the unforgiving desert sunlight, slowly raised to cover the squinting eyes of one of the West's more well known faces. Santana Lopez was wanted in three areas for some crime or another. She'd kind of lost count for lack of caring. Running around and away from accusations and threats had always been exciting up until now.

Something about a gunshot wound treated only by sunlight and a very persistent vulture in the middle of nowhere changes that opinion pretty quickly.

"Get the hell...off of me you dumb...shit." She croaked out hoarsely as she swatted away at the giant bird. She grunted as she used one hand to push herself upright, noticing the dark, stained sand now tinged like rust beneath her. How long had she been out?

Spotting her well-worn Stetson, she picked it up and placed it, with a determined tug, back on her head of mussed black hair. Favoring her right side, she glanced down, noting that the bullet must have merely grazed her just below the ribs. Whatever pain and exhaustion she had succumbed to must have left her vision blackened out.

She squinted, the rising pain in her side growing as she rose to her feet. She offered her knees a carefree slap to free her trousers of what dust had collected. Her back was stiff, her side was painfully throbbing and presumably on its way to a nice infection, and her head was positively brimming with ache; but, as she looked out over her surroundings, a smile, a victorious smirk settled on her full lips.

Before her, laid the bodies of the supposed lawmen, horses, and bounty hunters she had fought off however long before she passed out.

She stumbled over shakily to one of their bodies, bending over gingerly to find what resources she could from their bodies. Careful not to bump into the nearby cactuses, she fished around in his pockets and pouches. Extra ammo, food, money, it would all be put to good use if she had a say in the matter.

"Just as crooked as I could ever hope to be, Friend." She gave the pale body one last half-hearted kick as she walked away in search to procure a horse, or something that wasn't her tired legs, to carry her to the nearest town.

**~.~.~**

This wasn't the first time she had played dead on the side of the road to get what she needed. Honestly, though, it was a fantastic respite, lying down on the cold ground. A bleeding wound can really take it out of risky in the chilled night air amongst the numerous coyotes and cougars that littered the desert, the beautiful Bay she was riding now proved well worth that risk.

Some people were really just too good hearted for their own good. They were begging to be taken advantage of: survival of the fittest was the only motto sensible folk could adhere to. And if she knew anything about herself, Santana knew she was born with 3 God given gifts: good looks, a deceivingly kind face and a sharp (but quick) tongue. She would have been a fool not to use them.

She almost felt bad about ridding the world of a practiced doctor, but both his medicine bag and his horse were far too valuable and vital to her to pass up. "Poor little bastard," she smoothed her hands over the dark vest she now wore. Her old, soiled shirt was somewhere back with the doctor's body. He just happened to be on the short and skinny side, it was like God Himself were smiling down on her.

Medicine, new clothes, and gauze for her wounds. Fortune favors the sick and twisted at heart.

But boy, was riding with an injury really tuckering her out. She heaved a few breaths in and out, realizing she really wasn't close to any city. At least the scenery was a welcomed change, from cold desert to cold plains of open grass. She squinted under the moonlight, though bright on it's own, finding it impossible to see much of anything.

Then, there, she caught it. A flicker of light. How far away or whether she was dreaming, she wasn't sure. But salvation came in the form of many things to Santana, namely: women, whiskey, and candlelight.

So maybe that last one was a hasty amendment, but no matter. The point being, she'd found a place that would hopefully take her in. Granted, so long as they'd not been to the general store in a while to see any of the wanted posters.

"Rather dashing," she'd said the first time she'd seen them hanging here and there around numerous towns. The little bit of fame and notoriety was down right stimulating. Alas, Santana had grown accustomed to wearing a dark kerchief around her face to hide her identity. However, nothing screams, "I'm wanted by the law" quite like hiding half of your face; and in her current predicament, she just couldn't take chances.

She reached a gloved hand down to her wound, now soaking through her new clothes with blood. Riding a horse at such a speed must have aggravated it. Slowly but surely, the copper horse carried her as she slumped lower and lower upon the saddle.

"This is how it's all ending, Jed." She gestured towards the horse, "I can call you Jed, right?" If Jed could have acknowledged her at all, he made no move to whine or even snort her way.

It didn't matter. Santana Lopez didn't need a horse to validate her. "I, Santana Lopez, dead by a flesh wound, aged 20 and 1 years, and for no man to partake in the spoils and rewards of my death." A laugh gurgled up her throat until she winced in pain. Her vision was swimming again, having never recovered from her first black out.

"This is really the end." She repeated her sentiments low and to herself. Yet now, there was an edge of panic and sadness, void of her normal bitterness. Before she realized it, she was all but laying on the horse. It whinnied under the weight of her body cast upon its haunches. "I know I'm heavy but," she coughed abruptly, clutching even harder to her side. Maybe there was more wrong with her than just a flesh wound, "I know I'm heavy." She echoed tiredly, resigned, letting her arms fall limply at the sides of the horse's neck. She was heavy with so much more than the body weight slowly going dead. Sin was also quite the burden to shoulder.

It was as if the horse knew exactly where to go, driven by someone with Santana's best interests in mind, and that surely wasn't herself. Just as the farm from whence the candlelight was shining was coming into view, Santana felt her eyelids droop without cause to stop them from closing entirely.

The horse took soft footsteps, hooves digging into the soft earth with every step. Santana felt her weight being jostled from one side to the other, trying without really trying to hold onto the reigns, the mane, the ears, anything to stay upright. And through all her fumbling, that's when she heard it.

Like a toy people give to infants to hold their interest, a distinct rattle echoed through the cold air.

"This is _really_ the end." And just like that, her body was catapulted from the horse's back and down to the grassy plains with a painful thud. The horse, spooked by the snake, now running to God only knows where, could faintly be heard as her hearing began to fail her.

Knocked out of breath and rendered completely blacked out laid Santana Lopez, aged 20 and 1 years beneath a tattered wooden sign labeled "PIERCE RANCH".


	2. Chapter 1: Blood and Bullets

A/N:

So for whatever reason, the prologue keeps uploading in a weird way that cuts out a giant portion of a sentence near the end. So there's one sentence that looks really dumb in the first chapter and I can't get it to fix itself.

Anyways, essentially this is just something fun for me. I'm still working on Target Panic but I've had some writer's block and I'm hoping that getting back into writing at all will help kickstart that process. I have a sequence of events still planned, just getting to them is difficult.

At any rate, this is the love child of my brain and my brain on red dead redemption thought kicks.

YeeHAW!

**~.~.~**

_August 21, 1911_

Strong beams of light streamed into the room. Santana struggled against the sheets to lift her arms over her eyes again. Again. Again. This seemed familiar. Her hands darted towards the sheets around her sore body. Linens? Was this heaven? Did she really make it?

"Well, who did I fuc-" she stopped mid thought, mustering all her strength to peer at what was keeping her legs from dancing around in the clouds. There, at her feet, was a small girl. Blonde, probably not more than ten, totally asleep against her legs. "Angels?" Santana wondered aloud softly, now thoroughly perplexed.

She took a moment to look around the room. Blank yet somehow classy and reserved walls held her in. Against the windows were fine blue curtains, pulled to the side to allow the sunlight entry into the room. It couldn't have been later than noon, she noted. The sheets were white as innocence itself. The door was closed.

Maybe if she opened it Jesus would be on the other side.

She abruptly withdrew her legs from the sleeping girl, ready to make towards the door. However, the girl sprang up from her seat with a great shout, "Ma!"

"Jesus Christ!" Santana matched the shrill capacity of the girl, immediately scrunching at the pain she felt in her side. She tried to pull her legs back towards her body and away from the excited child.

The girl, equally as startled, peered down at Santana with heavy breathing and piercing blue eyes.

"You're alive?" Her one front tooth swayed with ever breath, her lips curling in an eagerly curious smile.

"If I was before, I doubt I am now." Santana muttered darkly as she tried to situate herself more upright with the pillows behind her. Before she could say much else, however, the door thundered open, and in came a cool drink of water if Santana had ever seen one.

Literally and figuratively.

"Mattie, what'd I tell you 'bout yellin'?" Her tone was scolding, lightly threatening but oh her face. Her face, hair, legs, hips, lips, and eyelashes were exactly what Santana needed. "'Specially 'round our guests." The golden vision amended, fixing the glass of water upon the wash stand next to the bed.

"Mother Mary, this is Heaven." She wasn't sure when she got so religious, but the cottony-dry feeling procuring Santana's throat and capturing her words was making it harder to talk the longer she looked. Santana was sure she had died and God had sent His finest angel to receive her.

The woman approached her with a bashful grin and a damp cloth in hand. She perched herself on the bedside, offering the glass of water to Santana, "my, my someone hit their head harder than the doctor thought." She giggled and pressed the cold cloth against Santana's brow. Santana winced, realizing she had a cut on her face.

"Sorry," the girl soothed, "Pa says vinegar makes it all clean. I just think it makes the pain get out quicker." She shrugged. Her delicate yet long fingers ran over the offended patch of skin above Santana's eyebrow. Santana's brown eyes followed her movements as best she could. Her breath hitched when her finger stopped and when she pulled away, she exhaled.

"There, now. That should feel better. Mattie," she turned towards the girl who had gone strangely quiet. "Let's let our friend..." she turned back towards her, the question lying thickly in the air.

"Santana...my name is Santana." For whatever reason, she looked down, busying her hands with the edge of the quilt. Barring that this was heaven, she hoped to God that she hadn't been to town to see those posters. Wherever she was, she was sure her name was well known. The girl made no motion to act offended. That was a good sign.

"Well my name's Brittany," She smiled warmly, "most people just call me Brit, and that whipper-snapper there's my sister Mattie. Guess you'd figured that by now." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, but she faltered, noticing Santana's stumped expression.

"She...calls you Ma?" She was a little slow on the uptake and she felt dumb for even asking. Maybe she just wasn't getting something.

A mirth-filled laugh bubbled up Brittany's throat, "Oh you don't worry about that. It's time you rest a bit, alright? I'll let you ask all the questions you like as soon as you're rested."

Santana dumbly nodded, feeling odd for accepting so much kindness from a stranger, but the dull throb in her head and the sharper pains in her ribs were making a compelling argument to stay in bed. She settled down while Brittany fixed her pillows. Mattie emulated the older woman, fluffing the side of the pillows and smoothing out the covers over Santana.

It wasn't long after she'd closed her eyes that she heard the soft padding of footsteps out of the room and the soft click of the door closing.

**~.~.~**

The second time Santana had opened her eyes, the moonlight was the only light to lead her eyes around the room. The eerie quiet that settled the air made her shift uneasily under the covers. There was just something about waking up in a house that wasn't your own. She yawned, drawing the back of hand to her lips to suppress the sound.

"Hi."

Santana felt like a frightened cat, every hair on her body stood on end. Her hand darted to her chest to still her breathing. This was really getting old. She muttered a quick string of curses under her breath.

"M-Mattie?" Santana took a stab. She recognized the hushed whisper. The girl was terrible at hiding her excitement.

The girl was quick to jump on the bed, Santana narrowly evading her galloping limbs.

"Well aren't you a friendly little goop." She managed to cough out, trying to reevaluate her position on the bed. Did this kid even realize what being injured meant?

"Hey that's not very nice," Mattie curled her lip. "Ma says it's not nice to call people names."

"It's also not nice to scare the holy ghost out of someone who's positively whacked. Did your ma tell you that?" Santana glared skeptically at the younger girl through the darkness. Through some right, Mattie had settled quite comfortably beside her.

Mattie laughed at her. She laughed and Santana grimaced. The nerve.

She was an outlaw. She was being laughed at by a child. Santana shook her head.

"Whatever." The matter somewhat settled, Santana moved to her next question.

"What are you doing in here? Isn't it late or something?"

Santana could feel the shake of Mattie's head. It was exaggerated and so childlike. This was a situation Santana would have never imagined she'd be in. "Quite a scandal right? If Ma knew I was awake she'd tan my hide. I like you though and you're right exotic, Ma says. We don't see much visitors, 'specially ones like you!" Santana thought the only scandal here was that the young girl was wearing _her_ hat. Damned kids.

Santana stared blankly. Right exotic she says. Was that good? Was that a bad thing? Did she think she was odd? She shook her head free of the notion. "Okay, okay. Hold on. Ma? Explain that to me first, why do you call your sister Ma?"

Mattie's young face twisted in thought.

"How's about we play a game?"

"Aren't you tired? Just tell me." Santana whined.

Mattie grinned with a negative shake of her head. "You tell me a story, and I'll tell you about Ma."

This was her idea of a game? Boy life out here must have been boring. Santana dropped a heavy sigh, "You and your _Ma_ sure do like secrets, huh?"

"Secrets are fun!"

"Oh boy, you'd love me then." Santana quietly breathed out for no one but herself to hear. "Anyway," she emptied her mind, "what kind of story do you wanna hear?"

"Something exciting or dangerous!" She curled up closer to Santana if it were possible causing the woman to inwardly shrivel. "Pa always said that danger and gun fights aren't lady like," Santana wondered for a moment if _Pa_ was her brother or her real father, "so I never get to hear any of that stuff is all."

The moonlight caught the glint in Mattie's eyes, leaving Santana mostly helpless not to oblige. She mulled it over in her head, she had plenty of stories.

"Let me tell you a story to prove your Pa wrong..."

**~.~.~**

_Summer 1909 - Texas _

_A lone tumbleweed scooted across the dirt main drag of a mostly empty town. This town, what was it? She'd lost count of the many she'd visited. Wherever she was, New York had nothing to worry about. The city didn't look a day over 1860. It was backwards, completely frozen in the time of outlaws and rambunctious citizens that settled their disputes, not with polite discourse, but with bullets and blood. _

_It hung just North of the Rio Grande and had a general mix of Mexican and Anglo European inhabitants. Thanks to the oil boom of 1901, cities like this picked up in traffic and revenue, though to look at it, it would be impossible to tell. _

_"Like wearin' man's clothin', eh?" One unfortunately inebriated patron cast as Santana walked by him in the Saloon. It was a poor excuse, though it was large. The cleanliness was low, the piano was somewhat out of tune, and the drinks were watered down. She ordered a whiskey anyway. _

_Santana cocked her hat up higher on her forehead, her brow matched the motion as she took her first sip. She waited for the man to say something else. Bar fights were always her strong suit. "I'd give you a reason to like wearin' dresses. Easy access," he slimily grinned, black teeth and fine whiskers moving with his pale lips as he gyrated against the bar. She waited. And waited. And waited. _

_Soon his boots dra-_

"Miss Santana?" Mattie interrupted with a yawn,

"What" Santana feigned annoyance.

"Did you get 'em good?" The young girl smacked her lips together and gave a lazy smile to go along with her question.

Santana found herself smirking smugly. "Oh, I got 'em alright. Just listen and see." She cleared her throat.

_Soon his boots dragged themselves across the wooden floor until he was inches away from her. She glanced at him cooly, taking one last swig of horrible whiskey. She twirled the small glass between her fingers. Like clockwork the man's hands found her shoulder and he tried to pull her away. _

_The crowded bar suddenly went quiet when they heard the sound of glass breaking over someone's head. They all turned, finding the man shooting across the room like a stumbling bullet. He piled into a group playing poker, and that was all it took. All out mayhem ensued. _

_"One drink in. _One_ drink in and this happens." She dodged a quick punch. No matter where she went, for whatever reason, and maybe it was the fact that she was a woman trying and succeeding at living in a man's world, but people did not take kindly to her. _

_She landed a few good hits on multiple men, dodged chair legs and shards of wood, broken glasses, and an incredibly angry bartender. The abrasively loud bar had turned into an all out brawl from every angle._

_Suddenly, she felt a sharp kick to her lower back causing her to stumble to the floor. She turned her head at a lightning quick speed upon hearing the hammer pulling back on a gun. Someone was especially unhappy. Trying her luck, she raised her hands in the air and rose to her feet slowly. _

_"Listen here, Whore! Percy Long ain't no fuckin' fool. Get on your knees!" The entire bar stopped in their tracks and the tension began to mount. No one had intended for things to escalate so far. It also came to Santana's attention that whatever excuse for a city she was in, obviously didn't have law enforcement. She scanned the area, finding the man next to her was wearing a Sheriff's badge holding a half broken bottle and the head of a man between his body and arm. She rolled her eyes, it would be her luck. Repeat: there was no law enforcement. _

_"I s'pose since you wants ta act like a feller, you can die like one to." Percy motioned with his gun, stumbling closer to her. The people parted like the Red Sea and soon, Santana found herself being led outside onto the dimly lit road. The entire city, sprouted from the bar and took hold on any patch of the porch they could find. _

_With every step, she was keenly aware of the revolver, that once belonged to her father, hugging her left thigh. She'd never had to use it before and now she was being challenged to a duel. Sure, she could shoot. She was actually pretty damn good, considering but she'd never killed a man. _

_She always remembered something her father used to tell her, "Never let them see your fear." If anything, she would die with her best face outward. _

_Santana took her position opposite of the drunk and offended man. She'd seen duels like this before, but she thought them trivial and hasty. Weren't people above this kind of behavior? _

_Percy pulled up his right sleeve haphazardly, as the Sheriff from earlier stepped out from the crowd beside them. _

_"Alright," his voice boomed, "this'll be a proper, clean duel. On my mark," he shifted his glance from Santana to Percy and paused dramatically, "get set." Santana's hand inched slowly towards the holster, "GO!"_

_She wasn't sure if she'd hit anything, if she was still alive, if her body was in limbo, or simply if she had finally woken up from her nightmare, but after the _single_ gunshot she heard, she knew it could only be good or bad. _

_Cracking her eyes open, she glanced down the way to find Percy flat on his back. One bullet-hole straight between his eyes caused his fall. _

_That was that, Santana Lopez had killed a man. _

_She guessed it didn't really count though, the duel was fair and by the laws of the land, he had really been the one to initiate it. That was alright, right? _

_"Shit", she let go of a sigh she had been holding in. The crowd began to lowly murmur, probably surprised that a woman had bested a man at all. She wondered for a moment how well known Percy was around those parts. _

_The Sheriff walked over to inspect the body, bending down, and picking up the gun from his hand. Slowly, he opened the chamber, finding it cool and also _empty_. _

_"Murderer!" He yelled it loudly enough for the next town to hear. _

_Santana bristled. "You're a murderer and a cheat! This gun is empty!" _

_Now the crowd really picked up, the tall tell signs of gossip beginning to flow. _

_Quickly, Santana whistled and found her black quarter horse running to scoop her up. She felt a bit like a fox trying to make an escape like this, but with the drunk way the entire town was in, she felt confident that she could get a decent head start. _

_Little did she know the entire town carried guns, even the women. _

_Even little-er did she know, all of them would be aimed at her. But, her steed was fast, her heart was beating swiftly, and her mind was racing just as quickly as her horse could run. The town got smaller and smaller in view the further away she rode, and soon, the bullets stopped whizzing by her cheeks. _

_That was that, Santana Lopez had _really_ killed a man. _

**~.~.~**

Santana chanced a glance over at the sleeping girl beside her, pulled the covers up over her with a wince and settled down in the small space left for her on the bed.

"Crazy little twirp, didn't even hear me finish my story." She bit back a yawn, letting her eyes close to the moonlight and the light chirp of crickets.

**~.~.~**

A/N: A bucket of candy goes to the person who understands the "She felt like a fox" reference. Hint: The person I'm referencing doesn't get thought of for another 10 years.

Hope you enjoy! By making the chapters a bit shorter, I should be able to update quicker!


	3. Chapter 2: The Cunning Odysseus

A/N: Thanks for the responses so far guys! Glad you all are liking this!

I just want to point out that there will be some historical inaccuracies and some creative freedom taken on my part! Cities, towns and people may or may not have actually existed in this universe!

Giddy up!

•~•~•

_August 22, 1911 - Rio Vista, Texas_

The following morning, Santana awoke in a peculiar position but the bed was all hers. A sigh escaped her as she stretched out her sore joints and popped what bones would pop for her. Her hat laid hanging from the simple wooden bed frame. Hanging from it, tucked just barely under the rope, was a slip of paper that simply read "sorry".

She rose from the bed, realizing for the first time that she wasn't wearing the same clothes she'd fallen from her horse with. Heat rose to her face. That meant...

She pushed the thought aside and replaced it with trying to get out of bed. Gingerly, she swung her feet around until her toes touched the rough wooden floor. She tried a bit of weight on the balls of her feet, finding only soreness in her bones, thankfully none broken.

Slowly, she paced to the small armoire that seemed more like a tall chest. It's deep colored wood was only slightly darker than her own skin. She braced herself against it, finding her clothes folded up neatly up top.

Santana glanced up at the mirror leaning against the wall before her. Damn did she look like a mile of bad road. Granted, she'd seen worse but for her, this was pushing it. She ran her fingertips over every scratch upon her face, down to her lips, dry and cracked. The desert was kind to no one.

Tugging the large white shirt from her body, she folded it as neatly as she could. She took a handful of water from the basin and splashed it upon her face. She peered down at her side, finding it wrapped in bandages, happy to see that there was really no blood soaking through.

Somewhat content, she wordlessly put on her trousers, and pulled her white button down over her shoulders. She was in the middle of buttoning up when the door cracked open.

"Oh," Brittany bash fully made to shut the door. "I hadn't realized you were changin'."

Santana smirked, "you're alright. I was almost done."

Brittany wasted no time in opening the door. She had a tray of food with her. She bowed her head towards the food and spoke, "I'm awful sorry bout Mattie this Mornin'. I told her not to bother you." she smiled apologetically.

Santana returned the gesture, "it's alright. The little squirt's not so bad really." she took her time finishing the buttons, leaving a few open at the top. A girl could get hot after all.

"I hope you don't mind, I made you some food. Thought I'd see if you were up to eatin." she set the tray down on the bed.

Mind? Would she mind a cooked meal. There were eggs, biscuits, hash and a slice of bacon. Would she mind?

Santana chuckled, "that's mighty kind of you miss Brittany. But I'll only mind if you don't join me." Santana slithered into her recently _gifted_ vest and more quickly fastened the buttons. Next, she strapped on her gun belt, settling it into place.

"I reckon I can take a few minutes to sit with you." Brittany peeked up through her bangs. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, her shirt was long and flowing cream, her slacks were like what many of the indians Santana had encountered wore. Sewn tanned animal hide, worn tightly around her legs capped by a pair of mid calf brown boots.

Had she always worn this? Was she always this plainly beautiful? Her smile was so full of warmth it was like standing next the sun itself. Santana had only wished someone like her had come into her life sooner. Now she could only ruin her at best.

•~•~•

"So tell me a bit about yourself, stranger." Brittany brought her hand to her mouth, wiping the remnants of a biscuit away.

"I'm not sure you want to know much about me if I'm honest." Santana looked down, troubled and suddenly finding the honey on her plate fun to mix around. "I'm not a good person, miss."

Santana met Brittany's eyes just in time to watch them soften. She sat back agains the head board, taking in a deep breath as she waited for Brittany to speak.

" I think..." she closed her eyes thoughtfully, "I think we all just need a little guidance sometimes. Not gettin the right kind doesn't make you bad." She looked straight into Santana's eyes, "Ive seen bad people, Miss Santana. And you ain't bad."

Santana thought it was awfully presumptuous of this girl to make a decision on her so quickly. How much could one person tell about someone just by watching them sleep in bed?

"Though I do think it mighty weird that we had such a time trying to find a doctor for you." She scrunched her nose and Santana might have thought it cute had she not know what was coming.

"One of them ran out screaming and making ridiculous accusations. Though to be honest with you the poor fella didn't seem quite right." She laughed quietly to herself. Santana was now somewhat relieved to know that the doctor who was kind enough to hand over his clothes was still alive. Being here seemed to take the chill out of her.

Santana nodded quietly, "Mm well I do appreciate the hospitality. You all have certainly gone above what I'm worth. I'd like to repay you in anyway I can."

"Whether the bill were 15 or 100 dollars, you would have been taken care of. My pa raised me right." Brittany didn't look towards her but she started to clear the dishes and rose from the bed. "But if you're set on repaying the favor, there's some work to be done around the ranch." she winked and sauntered out of the room with the tray.

•~•~•

A day of working in the sun coupled with an injury and stiff back made for a pretty shitty day by all standards. But a day of working in the sun with an injury while watching a sweaty young blonde work just as hard beside you, well stiff back be damned, it was a beautiful day.

Santana shifted, straightening her back. She never was much of a farmer and her small collection of peppers and tomatoes paled in comparison to Brittany's heaping baskets. The girl was quick with reaping.

Mattie was close behind them working just as quickly as Brittany. Practice made perfect, obviously. Santana was sure that she too could be amazing at such a simple task if it were all she did.

She was good at a lot of other things like eating, drinking, sex and running. Resolutely, she nodded along with her thought process. She didn't need to make everything into a competition, especially with a kid.

Among them, the other four or so men and women she could see around the high corn stalks picked away at various vegetables. Other people around the ranch tended to the chickens, cattle and horses. To be honest, Santana had never seen such a well run ranch, neither had she seen one quite so large.

It seemed to go on for a mile at least on stretch with three large barns, a field that expanded infinitely full of every crop imaginable and a large open expanse dedicated to the various herds they kept.

Santana breathed out heavily, willing the sweat and exhaustion to leave her limbs, "I'm quite impressed, Miss Pierce." She wiped her sleeve against her forehead, "I've not seen something so admirable since New York or the humble likes of Zinzinatti."

Brittany noticeably flushed at the compliment though it was hard to tell since her cheeks were already red from work. "It's all honest work and I have plenty of help round here. I can't take all of the credit." she smiled that smile that Santana was growing to call her favorite

Santana was almost more impressed that Brittany ran the farm. In some ways, they were a bit alike. Men ruled these parts, but times were quickly changing.

"Alright I think that'll do for today, y'all," Brittany called out loudly over the corn that seemed to desperately reach for the sky. Brittany wiped her own brow with the back of her hand, Santana stood beside her content to watch her move in any way.

"It's damn near the hottest day I've ever seen."

"I'll say," Santana confirmed, stepping back to admire the backside view she was privy to. She could look so long as she wasn't caught, right?

She felt a pair of eyes boring into her head, so she turned to see Mattie scowling in her direction. She could only assume that she blamed her for getting into trouble for last night's story time.

"What's say you and me take a nice ride into town?" Santana turned back around to meet Brittany eyeing her suspiciously.

"Uh yeah," she nodded dumbly, "I reckon that'd be nice."

"C'mon, I'll show you to the stables."

•~•~•

Some of the ranch hands had loaded up a fairly large wagon to send into town. It was literally overflowing with everything from potatoes to rabbit meat in baskets, crates and sacks. Santana and Brittany arrived at the stables just as the wagon was being pulled around.

"Jed!" Santana all but yelled upon seeing the horse who was leading the three tied to the wagon.

"Surprised to see 'em?" Brittany quirked her lips into a goofy smile the twang of her voice flitted softly through the air, "he makes quite the leading man."

Santana threw her arms around the horse's neck, entirely far too pleased to see him. "Is there some secret romance I should know about you two?" Brittany teased as she walked up to the passenger side.

"No!" The darker girl defended, blushing somewhat. The dark red horse snorted in disapproval, "we'd just met a few days ago, actually." She quickly left the horse's side and looked curiously at Brittany who was getting into the passenger side of the wagon.

"Um, aren't you on the wrong side?"

"You're indebted to me, _Santana_." Brittany smirked. "I figure you can drive us into town, being that you _can_ drive well, that is." She reached behind her in the seat, pulling out a Winchester Repeater. "Here, you may be about as tall as it is long, but I'm not letting you leave without a proper gun."

"I can drive a carriage perfectly fine." She pulled down on her black vest roughly, grabbing the wheel of the wagon and hoisting herself up. "You surely know how to put the hurt on my ego." She scowled, positioning the scabbard on her back and tying the binding string around her chest; she slid the rifle into the holster.

"You owe him," Brittany changed the subject quickly, ignoring her pleas and grimacing, glancing to the horse now known as Jed. "Jed here is the real reason we found you. Poor thing was so spooked that he ran right into one of our night watchmen. They say he led them right back to you." Santana managed a shifty glance down towards Jed as she settled on the bench.

Brittany handed her the reigns as she sniffled a bit. "Thank you." She muttered under her breath as she cracked the reigns, starting the wheels into motion.

The rustle of the dirt beneath the wheels and the lively squeak of leather and metal hinges that kept the wagon moving filled the silence of their trip for the first few minutes. Santana, now feeling comfortable with the reigns, leaned back a bit, "You never did tell me much about how you ended up with such a fine ranch."

"There's not much to tell," Brittany said matter-of-fact and shrugged like it was just something everyone knew.

"Well I'm not from these parts, so why don't you enlighten me." Santana hummed softly as a smile eased it's way onto her lips, curiosity glinting with the slant of her eyes.

"Around 5 years ago, my mother took ill. The doctor's called it hysteria, but it was hogwash to me. Every woman I knew had been told they had hysteria at some point or another. She was always real tired and got awful head pains. She worked herself nearly to death, working the ranch when my Pa couldn't do it alone. One day, she just up and died." Santana sat quietly, looking down at the reigns. Life out in the open was difficult, she knew that. But the way that talking about this seemed to chain down the blue in her eyes made her wish she had never asked. If God were up there, he had a way of taking good things from even better people and for what?

"After that," Brittany continued softly, "Pa never was quite the same. Most days he wouldn't even get out of bed. Now, he doesn't even know who me or Mattie is, let alone how to bathe or clothe himself. It's a right shame what losing love can do to a strong man." She kept her gaze downcast. "I just do what needs to be done, not really all that impressive huh?"

Santana turned in her seat, placing her hand on Brittany's closest knee. "People aren't measured by how they get what they get but rather what they do with what they're given." She gave her knee a gentle squeeze, "and you do more than fine."

Brittany had moved impossibly close over the course of their conversation. Santana was almost sure it was _her_ breath she was feeling against her face and not the resulting breeze from the ride into town. Just when she thought things were going in the right direction, the wagon wheels took a sudden jolt causing Santana to abruptly turn her attention back to the road. Nothing was wrong, must have just been a rock.

Brittany coughed dryly, "Welcome to Rio Vista." She gestured to the town coming into view with a wave of her hand.

The town of Rio Vista, Texas was extremely new. The Rio Grande was in view, but it was a different side of it, than Santana had ever seen. She was used to the Eastern side, but being this far out West, nearly into the New Mexico Territory. Santana had never seen a town with such diversity, diversity that got along at least. Seeing the many Apache and Navajo people who walked around explained more to her about Brittany's dress than Brittany probably could herself. The trade must have been rather abundant with choices.

It certainly didn't have paved roads, and it was situated in the middle of the cactus filled desert, but really, out here, what wasn't?

"Pull up right here, I'll go in and talk to the shopkeep." Brittany motioned as Santana pulled the reigns back and Jed led the troop to a stop in front of a building labeled _GENERAL STORE_.

Santana looked around, taking in the sight of Rio Vista. Even though the sun was falling closer and closer to the ground, people were still out and about working or shopping. Whether they were setting up new buildings or buying ingredients for supper, the bustle of the town was more alive than Santana had ever seen one to be.

Awkwardly, she toyed with the reigns. No harm in getting up and looking around for a bit. She descended with as much grace as possible, as a couple of men came out from the general store to unload the cart. She walked passed a candy store, wondering if Brittany fancied liquorice or maybe she was more of a chocolate girl? Santana had ten cents in her pocket, both coins burning a hole.

She caved, entering the store, she bought one bit of each and still had two cents to spare. This was the first time in her adult life she honestly could remember spending money on someone else, but it felt good. Maybe it was the hard days' work talking, but she felt rejuvenated.

As she walked out, broad smile on her face, she could see Brittany talking and laughing with the shop keeper from across the road. If possible, her smile brightened. She made a move to hide the candy, wrapped in a small bag in her pocket, but the cold press of a gun pressed to her neck made her freeze like a stone statue.

"Drop the candy." The voice was dark, gruff and tinged with a crazed sense of longing.

"Look Partner, there's more candy in the store, if you want it so bad, go beg for it. I'm sure they'd take a charity case." She started to walk away, but not towards Brittany. No sense in drawing attention to her, and definitely no sense in making a scene.

"I said _drop the god damned candy_!" So much for not making a scene. His voice was thundering, loud, and completely drew the attention of everyone, including Brittany. Now her surprise was ruined too. She was mad.

Santana turned sharply, "clearly this isn't about the candy." She punched her hat up cooly, as she spoke. "So why don't you tell me what this is really about."

"Two years," He took a shaky step towards her, his hand shaking with the gun. "Two fuckin' years I searched for yous. You cost me my title, my rank, my _respect_ all them years ago when you killed Percy Long. They thought I couldn't protect the city. _My. City. _All because of some god damned no good Mexican _Cheat_." He pushed her roughly with the point of the gun, and as she stepped backwards off of the wooden walkway between the shops, she moved to grab her revolver.

The air filled with the ring of a gun shot, bullet scrounging up dust as it lodged in the earth beside her feet. Santana looked down and then back up at the Sheriff from her past. Was this really happening?

"Don't you dare," his eyes were wide with what looked like fear and derangement. "Don't you fuckin' dare. I'm gonna take your pretty ass back to Port Isabel where we can give you a proper hangin'." His hands swung back in forth in the air in an eerie imitation of her body at the gallows.

"But first," he shifted the pistol in his hands, traveling the sites down her body until he spotted her knees. "Left or Right?" He asked as if it were a legitimate question.

"Neither." Came the strange, yet very familiar voice along with the sound of a lever-action rifle being primed for duty.

Brittany had managed to sneak behind the crazed ex-sheriff and now had a carbine aimed at his back. "Step away from the lady there, Sully. We get along just fine, no reason to ruin the friendliness."

Santana knew if she were a man, the excitement she felt about this whole situation would be on display. She smirked darkly back at the man. "Yeah, _Suilly_, why are you causin' such a commotion amongst these lovely town folk. I'm sure they just want to enjoy the remainder of their Saturday evening." She pulled out her own revolver now, pointing it squarely in his face. "Now unless you want to go down exactly like our friend Mister Long, I suggest you put down that gun."

Now she could talk the talk _and _walk the walk. Brittany visibly grimaced behind her when suddenly, she saw a man with the shiny star on his chest running through the thick crowd that had gathered.

"Break it up here, you three!" He called as he pushed through the last line of onlookers. He was a rather tall man with a peculiar hairstyle. One long streak of hair ran along his head. Santana thought he looked like an Indian with a small head.

Sully now shrunk, falling to his knees and reducing himself to a sobbing mess. Santana looked down on him with pity, was this the effect she had on others?

"Ms. Pierce, are you alright?" The deputy, Santana noted, seemed to be acquainted with Brittany already. Brittany lowered her gun, nodding, "we're fine, Noah. Thank you."

She sighed heavily, "Sully must have gotten out again. I don't know why ya'll keep listenin' to him when he says he wants to go on a walk. This happens every time I come to town." Brittany glanced at Sully, sobbing, folded in on himself. "Poor man, he tells the same story every single time."

Santana perked up, meeting Brittany's gaze as she mouth a 'sorry' towards her. What no one else knew was Sully wasn't insane, but if it had happened as many times as Brittany claimed, Sully probably wouldn't have believed her if Santana had told him he was finally right.

Scuffing her boots along the dirt road, Santana sided up to Brittany as they, along with the crowd, watched Noah lead Sully back towards the jail.

Soon the crowd dispersed and Brittany and Santana walked the path passed the various shops, back towards their wagon. Santana knew she would have to do a lot of explaining on the way back home.

In the distance, watching the two girls walk away, a man in a bowler hat snatched a bounty posting from the wall.

_WANTED: DEAD OR DEAD_

_Santana Lopez_

_4 Counts Murder, 1 Count Horse Thief, 3 Counts Theft_

_REWARD $100_

•~•~•

A/N: Cranking these out while I have the time! Hope you all are enjoying it! I'm open to suggestions, but there'll be more to come this week!


	4. Chapter 3: The Eyes of the Law

_August 22, 1911_

The ride back to the ranch was uneasily...not tense. Santana could only wonder if Brittany really had no concept of how vile of a life she led. Regardless of the thought, Santana was enjoying the rest as Brittany drove them out of view of Rio Vista.

The scenery changed from high desert to flowing plains with a subtlety and ease that was natural and beautiful. Santana admired the breeze against her face as the sky traded its delicate blue for huskier golds, pinks, and purples.

She was enamored by the way that Brittany's hair shined in the fading light, the picture of untamed beauty.

She must have been staring for a while because her blonde companion glanced at her and then looked away clearing her throat. The ride had been quiet thus far.

"Sorry bout all that back there. Sully's the resident umm..." she paused trying to find the right word, "old bat." A giggle escaped her.

"You keep apologizing an awful lot and I hardly know what for. " Santana sent her another smile, she hoped it reached her eyes and didn't show how troubled she really was.

"I just, don't want stuff like that to scare you off, I guess." Santana stiffened a bit. She wasn't much for staying in one place for too long mainly because trouble seemed to find her easily; but, on the other hand, it was nice to know that Brittany liked having her around.

"I uh," she stammered a bit. "I doubt I'll be going too far. What with my injury still healing and all." Santana grinned cheekily and Brittany laughed lightly.

"I s'pose I don't have to worry about that anyway. I do kind of own you." the mischievous air to her voice and the way her mouth curved in a similar way didn't go unnoticed.

In fact, the more Santana thought about it, the more Brittany owning her in every respect sounded down right delicious. She found herself nodding with a spacey affect, agreeing.

Then again she wouldn't mind owning her for a bit either. She was all about the equality.

Brittany's laughter brought her back into reality, "you're a real humdinger, you know that?"

"No I had no idea. I only knew I was 'right exotic'." Santana teased her. Brittany was quick to look away, blood rising to her cheeks.

"Somethin' like that I guess" she whispered, finding it difficult to look at Santana.

Santana wondered what kind of talking to Mattie was going to get later.

"Do you," Santana started adopting a serious demeanor, "do you enjoy the company of women, Miss Brittany." if the rapidly cooling environment hadn't been so quiet, Brittany probably wouldn't have heard the nearly silent question.

Brittany's initial silence startled Santana, she'd already ruined this friendship and she knew it. "What I mean to say is-"

But before she could finish, Brittany placed a gentle, barely there kiss against her cheek. In that moment god gave Santana's heart wings to fly among the angels. That had never gone so well.

"I enjoy your company just fine, doll."

Santana pinched herself, perhaps she was dreaming.

"Right," she shook her head dumbly again, "right."

Would Brittany knowing about her change things?

"Look Brittany," she looked over, realizing they were nearing the ranch. "I," she paused again.

Oh hey I'm kind of a murderer. I just thought you should know that I'm wanted in the greater portion of the union and I'm dangerous, cheers.

Could she tell her?

"What is it, Santana?" those innocent blue eyes were going to do her in surely.

"I just wanted you to know...that you drive a carriage very well." Santana smacked herself inwardly.

She chuckled warmly, "Well that's mighty kind of you to say. You'll notice I avoided the rocks this time." she joked.

"oh ha. Ha. Ha."

She was really in deep shit.

•~•~•

_August 24, 1911 - Pierce Ranch, Texas _

The days on the ranch had blurred by. It was nearly time to really kick up the harvest and the ranch hands and Brittany were all working non-stop. Santana had been too but while she was still recovering, Brittany often ordered her to take breaks.

She drew some water from the well, taking a heavy swig and dampening her handkerchief with the remainder. She pulled her hat from her head and squeezed the handkerchief over her head letting the water wash away the heat that felt permanently a part of her skin.

Feeling a pair of eyes upon her, she turned to meet Brittany's gaze as she leaned against a shovel handle. Walking away from the well with a small tin cup of water, Santana greeted the blond farmer.

"I feel like we haven't seen much of each other lately." She offered her the lukewarm liquid.

"Work is tiring and time consuming, I'm so-"

"if you say I'm sorry again, I may just up and leave right now." Santana giggled, pretending to be annoyed.

"Sorr-" Brittany caught herself and laughed loudly, clutching the shovel tighter.

"Ah, see you almost made me leave." she playfully tapped Brittany on the arm, taking her hat off and placing it upon her head.

"Brittany Pierce, infamous outlaw." Santana laughed at the irony, waving her hands around as if painting a picture, and at the sight There wasn't anything, even an old hat that could make Brittany look bad.

Brittany swatted Santana away, taking her hat off and using it as a weapon all the while laughing steadily. Santana was positive she'd never heard a better sound in her life. "Scat, you fiend. I'll never get a lick of work done if you keep up your antics."

Santana slumped her shoulders with a light sigh, "Yes, Master. Whatever you say, Master." She felt her hat land with a thud against her back before falling to the ground, followed by that laugh she loved so much.

Just then, beyond the reach of the ranch, gun shots rang out along with the galloping hooves of horses.

A lot of fucking horses. Coming straight for them.

The men around the ranch quickly tossed away their farming tools and began shouting out to their wives and children to get to safety. Some mounted their horses and cocked their weapons, others hid away with their families.

Santana looked closely at the horses coming with their signature bone chest pieces and striking pant along with the red vests that every rider wore. It was like every aspect of her past was coming back.

How were they _all _finding her?

The Voodoo gang wore red vests and painted their faces to resemble skulls. They hailed from the South Western tip of Louisiana, but Santana could only wonder if they had been enlisting because she wasn't quite sure what they were doing all the way out here. And then she remembered.

Back in Santana's more vibrant traveling experiences, she was more fool hardy, more eager to _please_. Unfortunately for her, one man who had quite a bit of stock in the community hadn't been paying too much attention to his wife. Santana, being as foolish as she was, was more than happy to pay attention to Pe' Pe' Jean Claude's wife.

Pe' Pe' Jean Claude just happened to be the penultimate ring master of the feared Voodoo gang. A gang famous for it's ritualistic killings of anyone who crossed them. Santana found that out the hard way when she managed to get hoisted onto roasting pike, halfway to getting attached to the cooking spit. Meanwhile, if it were possible to turn old French hymns into tribal "Hoo Ha Ha's", they chanted the mess around her.

Scary shit.

Somehow, she'd managed to escape, being cursed all along. Though to be honest, she'd thought she'd killed good old Pe' Pe'.

C'est la vie.

"Brittany, run on into the house," Santana shooed her as she picked her hat up from the ground and lifted her revolver from it's nest on her thigh.

"Santana, this is my ranch and I'm goin' to defend it, don't be ridiculous."

Sighing, Santana realized she was being dumb.

A man ran up alongside Brittany and handed her a rifle as the gang approached, slowing their speed. There was a good ten or so of them holding up for the ranch, so Santana didn't feel so alone; but there were at least double that coming at them.

"Santana Lopez!" Pepe's voice rang out with a thick French accent as his horse came to a stop feet from the invisible line separating the two sides.

"Pee Pee." Santana nodded in greeting, stepping forward. "You somehow look taller than last we met."

"Big talk coming from your angle." He sneered down at her.

"What was that, I couldn't quite make it out?" Santana perched her hand upon her ear to get a better listen. "Oh, by the way, how is your wife enjoying the little metal gift I gave you." She pointed to his metal claw like hand.

That's right, she did blow his hand off. She knew she left a good mark some way.

"Fuck you," Pe' Pe' spat down at her, the spit falling to her boot. "Boys, don't you sink zis place would look good on fire?! En fuego, Santana."

"Let's not be hasty, now Pee Pee."

She felt a sharp jolt on her shoulder, as Brittany shoved her with the butt of her rifle.

"Now would be a good time to stop talking Santana, this is my livelihood." She whispered.

"Eh! You zere. What is that, your newest little whore?" Pe' Pe' dismounted his horse and stalked his way towards them.

Santana raised her cattleman revolver to his chest, "take another step towards her and your boys will be plannin' your funeral." He cautioned another step and heard the click of her gun along with the other guns that stood with her, "I mean it, Jean Claude."

Like clockwork, the rest of the Voodoo gang took aim at the other side.

He erupted into laughter. "Oh, ho ho, lookahere." He peeked around Santana's shoulder to get a better look at Brittany. "I bet she looks good on her back."

Santana snarled, pushing him roughly with the nose of her pistol.

"Listen here, Fuckhead. If it's me you want, then take me. I'll go with you, but you leave them alone." She looked him squarely in the eye, unwavering in her decision.

"Santana!" Brittany called out as a couple of the men tried to keep her back.

"Brittany, no! You've done enough for me, just let this be the end of my repayment." She didn't look back. Couldn't look back or else she knew she'd take it back. It was foolish to make deals with outlaws, but they were severely out numbered right now. What else could she do?

"I'm sure ze lawmen of zis town with pay us generously for our services. Ridding the land of a pest like you has been a satisfying pleasure."

"Yeah? Well we'll see about that when we get there." Santana allowed her hands to be roped together. She caught the untrustworthy way that Pe' Pe's face contorted. She knew this was probably a bad idea.

"I'm not even going to wait to get you into town. I think I should just make you an example." Pe's Pe's large gun, clearly overcompensating for something else, raised to her forehead. The hammer clicked back. This was the end.

How many times was she going to find herself near death?

She was sure she heard Brittany's voice screaming over the loudness of the gunshot, but after hearing the second, third, twentieth gunshot she peeked her eyes open. Was this real life? Pe' Pe' Jean Claude looked like bloody swiss cheese and every member of the gang that hadn't peed themselves and run off were equally as blown apart.

She quickly glanced over towards the Ranch's side, hoping to find some sort of answers, but everyone looked just as dumbfounded as she felt. She only looked the other way when Brittany and few others wordlessly pointed there.

There upon all black steeds were a group of men in Bowler hats.

"Oh my god, I'm really dead this time."

Santana felt herself being cut free as Brittany pulled her up by the shoulders.

"You are so...so positively stupid!" Santana drew back, eyes wide.

"Now hold on a minute, I was doing that for you!"

"Well you know what, what good was it gonna do gettin' yourself killed like that? Reasonin' with outlaws is dangerous, don't you know nothin'?" Brittany's voice escalated.

"Well I am an outlaw, Brittany, so fuck me for being so careless!"

Not even a crow dared to make a noise through the thick silence that settled.

The quiet click of hooves on the packed dirt of the main road on the ranch brought everyone's attention to their saviors or rather unwelcome visitors. Depends on if you were the ranchers or Santana.

"You may be an outlaw but at least you're not a liar. I'd say that was honorable, if it weren't for your gargantuan and frankly, rather repelling list of offenses." A shorter man came down from his horse and took the small cap off to reveal ridiculously shiny slicked back hair. He was followed by a taller, well built man with shaggy blond hair peeking out from his hat.

The shorter man's voice was almost nasally and condescending. Santana wanted to shoot herself and just get it over with already. She dusted off her slacks and straightened her vest as they walked over.

"Blaine Anderson and Samuel Evans, Bureau of Investigation." Blaine gestured between himself and Samuel before nodding towards Brittany. "Ms. Pierce we do apologize for coming onto your ranch unannounced like this, but it did seem like you needed the help." He gave her a smile that seemed practiced.

As they spoke the other officers started loading the bodies of the dead Voodoo gang up into wagons. They came prepared, as if they knew this was going to happen.

"We have some business with Miss Lopez, so if you don't mind we'll be taking her with us." Samuel spoke with _such_ a deep voice, making Santana snicker. That couldn't be real and his lips. Well, she'd barely heard a word from Blaine because she couldn't stop gawking at them.

"Trout..." She whispered softly to herself, in awe.

"I'm sorry, Sirs, but she lives with us here for now. I'd like to know exactly what kind of shenanigans you're pulling. What exactly are you accusing her of?" Brittany seemed to still be in denial over the whole outlaw part.

Santana herself admitted it, what more did she need?

"Miss Pierce," Sam's deep voice rang out again, "it's really in your best interest if we receive your full cooperation."

"Alright then, we can fully cooperate. In the parlor." She urged them towards the house with the point of her arm.

•~•~•

The parlor of the Pierce Ranch was more ornate than most rooms Santana had ever sat in. Outside of the various politicians' wives she'd screwed, well she'd never really paid much attention to those parlors. Anyway, the parlor had the darkest, richest woods composing its furniture, but simple muted patterns adorned the sofas and chairs. All of which were beautifully carved with claw feet. She was starting to wonder just exactly how lucrative farming was for the Pierces.

Regardless of decor, Santana had never known lawmen to bend to the will of a woman so easily, at least not in the most simplest of cases like what they were doing now. She had assumed that with all of their authority, taking Brittany's suggestion to talk in the parlor wouldn't have even been up for discussion.

Mattie, blessed little soul, made tea for the company, but much like Santana, seemed particularly interested in Samuel's lips. She kept glancing over or all out staring at the young man and he returned the stare albeit awkwardly.

Blaine seemed to be the more articulate and seasoned of the pair, out of all of the questions Brittany had, he answered the most.

Like "How do you get your hair so down right shiny?" or "Have you taken ill in your nose or do you prefer talking like a woman talks to babies?"

The slew of others she asked were all equally ridiculous and all equally as serious as the next. Take that as it were.

"So let's get down to business, Miss Lopez." Blaine set his tea cup down, dismissing anymore questions from Brittany away with the wave of his hand.

"We know what kind of a terrible person you are, or perhaps _were,_ and we'd like to give you the opportunity to clear your reputation. Start afresh per se'," He crossed his legs and leaned back against his chair, smiling that false smile he carried in his back pocket for convenience.

"We know all about your father and why you're here." Evans began before Santana held up her hand to silence him.

"Hold up, before you tell me everything you supposedly _know_ about my father and I, cut it with your voice, Fish Lips. Surely, we can all see you're a man, so you don't have to impress anyone."

"We know you enjoy disrespecting the law, but I can assure you that, that will get you no where fast. We could just turn you into the local authorities right now, you realize." Blaine warned, unfazed, "It's troubling that you cant see the opportunity we're giving you here."

"It's more _troubling_ to me that you two and your army of misfits came all the way from, where? Manhattan? All in the name of whatever righteous justice for the greater good?" Santana puffed up her chest, crossing her arms and checked her head to the side in question.

Brittany's hand found Santana's thigh soothingly, "give us a reason to trust you and this growing government that claims to have us in mind."

Samuel leaned his elbows squarely on his knees as he leaned over the coffee table separating the two sides of the room. "We don't need anything from you, Miss Brittany. It's Miss Santana we're worried about." His voice had mysteriously dropped its ridiculous octave in favor of something more natural.

Brittany, not wanting to be left out of the loop, looked offended, but Santana spoke before she got the chance, "Just tell me what it is you want." She sighed, somewhat defeated.

"I think a little back story is in order. And I'm sure that since Miss Pierce here seems so caught up in the notion to join you, she has the right to know _everything_."

Santana seemed to toss the idea around her head. On the one hand, what ever they proposed was sure to be dangerous. She was, at best, dispensable to them, so they had nothing to lose if she died. Unless she had some sort of secret weapon she wasn't aware of. Brittany did deserve to know about her.

"Alright, Weisenberger von Oil Slick, but if anyone's telling this story, it'll be me. I don't want you goons bunking it up." She turned on the sofa to face Brittany who was apparently lost in her own thoughts. Santana wondered if she was scared, angry, or just confused by all of this being sprung on her at once. She probably regretted the day she'd ever found her.

"By all means," Blaine agreed with a nod.

"Take notes boys, you may learn something you couldn't read on a file."

•~•~•

_January 27, 1907 - New York City_

_Santana pulled her long wool overcoat over her dress and grimaced at the cold wind. This was surely a totally different world from Mexico, but if her father said she would find her here, then she would have braved a thousand different winters. _

_A life out West was not a life fit for a lady. Especially not a life her father could give her. _

_To be honest, she felt pretty bad about being so persistent with her father. He had done his best to raise her, but having such a bounty on his head his entire life, it was just too dangerous for her. She wanted no part in that life. She wished to dedicate herself to the growth that higher education could bring her, and better yet, she wanted to know her mother. _

_Her father, Otto Lopez, had participated in 2 failed revolutions in Mexico and had barely smuggled his family across the border to the California territory. Even there, he could never be satisfied with the treatment of non-European settlers. He often found himself in jails for starting riots or inducing panic. He was just that type of a guy. _

_Confined to work as a coffin crafter, Otto tried to right his wrongs. He claimed that preparing a proper entry into the afterlife for so many would undo the things he'd done in the past. _

_Though Santana was only a young teen then, she knew the implications of his words. Her father and Sin were close friends. _

_She wasn't sure how her thoughts always seemed to land on her father while she was away. The train ride to Manhattan had been simply wretched because she worried for him the entire way. That was a _long_ time to worry about someone. _

_Her distractedness was probably why finding her mother in the mess of people that were constantly out and about here was damn near impossible. If she didn't focus, how could she ever expect to find her? _

_However, perhaps it was her lack of knowledge about her mother all together that made it so difficult. She knew her mother was a German immigrant, Hannah Liedke. But she didn't know the first place to look for her. _

_It had been nearly 17 years since she'd been born, and she never remembered her mother being around after that. What if she had moved on? Started another family? What if she had completely forgotten about her? _

_The idea made her want to cry. _

_So here she was, in the largest city in the Union with no idea where to go. Sure, she took classes to further herself with whomever would have her, as a woman. Yet, she'd found herself here so many times before, months and months had passed since she'd began her search. Frustrated did not even begin to cover her feelings, and the harsh winter they were having was in no way adding to her happiness. _

_Slumping against the wall of a building, she looked up with a sigh, but quickly clambered to her right footing upon seeing the shop name, "Liedke's Lentils."_

_Making sure there were no trolly cars or carriages to stop her, she quickly crossed the street and entered into the shop, thankful for the rush of heat from the wood burning stove in the corner. _

_"Excuse me, Ma'am." She spotted a woman behind the counter. Her hair was dark black and her eyes were the same chocolate brown as her own. Could this be her? Her voice quivered with anticipation, "Would you happen to know a Hannah Liedke?" _

_The woman stiffened visibly, "Where did you hear that name at, girl? Jokes of that nature aren't taken kindly to here." _

_Santana now feeling scared to push the issue any further, ignored the feeling in her gut. Maybe her skin color was throwing her off. She knew people, even in such an advanced town as this, still didn't take kindly to anyone who wasn't white. _

_"I...um, she's my mother, Ma'am." She looked down at the black wooden counter top. _

_The eyes of the woman instantly softened, their hardness falling away as much as possible, "You poor girl, you don't know?" _

_Deflated, Santana braced herself as well as she could for whatever bad news the woman delivered, "Your mother died in child birth around 17 years ago." The woman reached her hand over the counter to comfort Santana. _

_"She...My sister was a wonderful woman, and you are just as beautiful as she." Her eyes held the utmost care and her words shared the same quality. _

_"So you're my Aunt?" Santana asked slowly, uncertain. _

_"I suppose that does appear to be so." She nodded gently, her words still softly spoken. "Who in God's name sent you here to find her?" _

_"My father." Santana hung her head low, allowing herself to feel all of the anguish of dashed hopes, and all of the anger she felt towards her father to rush out in the form of hot tears. _

•~•~•

_The train ride back to her father in California was long and -_

"Not to be rude, well... yes I mean to be rude. Fast forward a bit to the more relevant points. The government didn't send us to sit in a parlor and drink tea all day." Blaine looked bored by this point, but Brittany seemed sympathetic.

She shot Blaine a glare.

"I thought I was supposed to know _everything_?" Brittany mocked his earlier tone.

"Fine," he scoffed, "but you best make another kettle of tea. This will probably take a while."

"The train ride back to California-"

_was long and taxing. The chairs were uncomfortable and the small towns they stopped in were really full of nothing interesting at all. Besides, all Santana could think about was exactly what piece of her mind she was going to force feed to her father. That and lamenting the fact that she couldn't afford a Pullman car because damn, she was hungry and in need of a little luxury. _

_However, as she gazed at the passing by shrubbery hard enough to make them catch fire, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Miss Santana Lopez, correct?" The porter held a note in his hand. _

_"That's me, yes." She eyed the note carefully. What could that be? Could she send a note to her father in advance to warn him that she would descend upon him like a tornado?_

_"I'm afraid we have some bad news." _

_"Of course," she rolled her eyes. 'Perhaps the telegram is here finally that my mother has died' she thought bitterly. "I'm sorry," she checked herself, "I don't mean to be rude, please go on." _

_"We've received word that your father has died." The porter handed her the note before bowing his head and walking away. _

_Santana wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, she was ready to kill him herself, but on the other hand, who would wish death on their father? She paled, realizing the gravity of her situation now. She was an orphan. _

•~•~•

_When she arrived back in California, she went straight home. Apparently, there was no funeral being held for her father, mostly because all of their family was back in Mexico. Also because no one seemed to care. _

_The town was just as well off as it was when her father was alive. And she realized, as she passed the Coffin workshop that her father had already been replaced. There must have been a lot of men ready to clear their name while working with the dead. _

_Coming upon her small home, Santana breezed passed the eviction notice posted on the door. There was no reason for her to stay here any longer, anyway. _

_She was in the middle of pulling together her Father's belongings when a note fell from one of his discarded jacket pockets. _

_My Dear Santana,_

_If you are reading this, the chances are great that I have passed on. I'm sorry that I sent you away to New York. I have missed you terribly. But you must understand, I had the best and most fatherly intentions in sending you away. My past is no secret, Santana. I know that you know the things I have done in the name of change and in the name of other men. _

_But here, I have tried the same changes, and I thought I had found men who shared my same passions. But now, there are people who fear who and what I know. Santana, I am in trouble. And I fear the only way to escape it is to give into it. I know I have taught you ways to survive in this horrible world, things that most ladies do not know how to do. I am proud of you, Santana. Please find a better life for yourself. _

_Te quiero siempre,_

_Otto_

"And that's when I joined a gang." Santana shrugged.

"After all of that, you thought joining a gang was a good idea?" Brittany sat perplexed as ever.

"Well, I needed to make a name for myself if I was going to find out anything about who had killed my father." She looked down. "Essentially, I was trying to become him. I just gave up along the way, and that's really how I ended up here."

Anderson and Evans stared at the two intently, "So did you find out anything important?"

"What part of _I gave up along the way_ didn't register with you?" She stood up, frustrated with the memories. "Look, I was foolish to think that I could somehow avenge my father and make it back alive, but maybe back then I didn't care. But now..." She fixed her gaze on Brittany entirely, "I don't care about it anymore, it's a life I'm trying to get rid of. I was so sure of myself, like I was leading my own grand revenge adventure." She shook her head. "I see now that I was just too young and naive to see the idiocy of it all."

Standing abruptly, without care who else was in the room, Brittany engulfed Santana in an embrace.

"Why are you hugging me? You should hate me and see me as the idiot I am." Santana's muffled response came just barely audible.

"You're not dumb. Don't ever say that about yourself."

"I find the whole thing rather romantic, don't you Miss Pierce?" Blaine interrupted, "So driven by raw emotion that she committed downright disgusting acts of violence and offense to many an innocent. Quite heart warming."

Sam shot a look of disapproval towards Blaine. "What Blaine is trying to get at, ladies." He cleared his throat, "We just may have found out what you were looking for, for all those years. But the situation is bigger than all of us in this room."

Blaine's fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. "What _Samuel_ is trying to say is, we've found the man who killed your father."

•~•~•

A/N: Poor Santana keeps getting put into some nasty situations! There will be plenty more where that came from.

As for me, I need to get some rest and work through the weekend!

Questions, comments, or concerns? Fill me in! Through either reviews or my tumblr isonicedyou dot tumblr dot com

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 4: Takes One to Know One

A/N: Wellllllll sorry this took so long. I can't apologize enough nor thank everyone for the positive feedback! I've been slammed with work and school. Finals are just around the riverbend, so I want to crank this out now for you! Quick thank you to Francis for letting me know I'd screwed up the dates! I guess I was in a bit of a hurry, but I fixed it up there! Thanks again!

Glad everyone's liking the story so far! There will be plenty of little side quests coming up, and to anyone who might be concerned about other characters showing up in larger ways, be patient, friends. :)

Now I know everyone is a bit upset over the possible upcoming Bram, so let's just enjoy our little AU lives for now and wait until next Thursday. It may not be worth getting our feathers too ruffled. ;)

•~•~•

_August 24, 1911 Pierce Ranch, Texas_

Santana tried not to act stunned or affected, but receiving such terrifying, elating, horrible, yet completely amazing news was also a bit overwhelming. She had all but given up.

Her brow furrowed in thought; she shook her head slowly.

"No._ Absolutely_ not." Her movements became stronger and surer. "I'm not playing this game for you. Cuff me, rope me up. I gave up on finding the person responsible, and frankly, at this point, I would just rather go to jail."

Blaine laughed fully, knowing he held the power in this situation. " Santana, you don't understand. For all that you've done, you'll _die_." He sat back, satisfied, "I'm sure that there are more people out there, like Pe' Pe' Jean Claude, who would love to save me the trouble."

Brittany didn't waste any time, she stood declaring, "She'll do it!"

"Brittany, no. Don't you get it? I'll die either way, and who's to say they just won't kill me once I've done their dirty work?" Santana stood too, fully using her hands, pointing accusatory fingers at the two federal men.

"You'll just have to trust us, Miss Lopez." Samuel tried to reason.

"Ha!" _Trust the government_ she internally snickered. "You think I'm supposed to trust you? It's so obscenely obvious that this is just some nefarious plan. What makes me such a perfect candidate for this _job?_ You think you can lure me in because he supposedly killed my father? Just so you can look like heroes in the end for letting the little, astray and downtrodden woman get redemption?" She turned towards Brittany, "and then, Brittany, when all is said and done, they put a bullet in my skull." She positioned her fingers like a gun against her head.

As the atmosphere in the room grew thicker with Santana's skepticism and Blaine's frustrations, Mattie clung to Brittany's leg. Brittany ran her fingers through the little girl's blonde locks carefully. Children were so perceptive. Brittany had to try to conceal how scared she was in this whole situation. Having two strangers in her house, spouting a whole lot of hot air was an uncomfortable predicament.

"Quite a story, Santana," Blaine sneered from his seat, he started to clap before Samuel put his hands over Blaine's to stop him and then stood tall.

"Look, Miss Santana, I said before that this is much bigger than all of us here."

"Evans, don't." Blaine warned evenly.

"It's obvious that you're not getting through to her, so will you just be quiet and let me speak for a second!" His voice was considerably harsher and louder than it had been before. Having noticed he spoke out of turn, he awkwardly added, "...Sir."

Samuel cleared his throat, "The man responsible for your father's death, regardless of whether or not you care about it anymore, is up to far worse than he has ever been. He's amassed a following, claiming revolution to take back the territory that was lost to Mexico. That territory is here, Miss Santana. Right where we're standing, and Lord only knows where else. He's building off of the revolution that's currently going on in Mexico itself. He is _extremely_ powerful and dangerous."

"What is his name," she sighed, mad at herself for even thinking about getting involved.

"It depends on which side you're on. If you're with him: El Mano del Diablo,"

"What does it mean?" Brittany sought the answer from Santana.

Santana quietly answered, "the Devil's Hand." Slumping in her chair, she really couldn't believe this was happening. Santana remembered her father's muted conversations with strangers about the devil. His sometimes horrible dreams about never being able to escape from the _devil_. She didn't see it when she was a child, how could she have? But her father was afraid of this man for nearly her whole life. Coming to America, he must have thought he had finally escaped.

Sam continued, "but if you're with us, Luis Hermenegildo Cabrera."

"Good Ole' Herman." Santana scoffed.

"Think about it, Lopez," Blaine began, "he's terrorizing innocent people. People who weren't even like your father, they were never trying to be involved with people like Cabrera. He's a _bad man_." And then, in a rare moment of softness and sincerity, "think about Miss Pierce here, her ranch, all of the people here. Think about _all of us_. He's coming to take away the lives of any and all Americans he can get his hands on." His sigh was deep, full of frustration and strangely, fear. "Don't you want to do some good in this world for once?"

Something about the combination of Blaine's eyes turning more muted and pleading, the way Samuel's bottom lip slightly jutted out, and Brittany becoming more and more unsettled, found Santana giving up on the stubborn act.

It was true, she really did want to do better by the world. In her quest for revenge, she had been so blinded by her own motives that she had done terrible things. Some on accident, most on purpose. She partied up with gangs, killed husbands, brothers, and sons. Once upon a time she thought she'd fucked too many women (and admittedly men, before she really decided to stop kidding herself), drank too much whiskey, and stole too many horses to have a good life. Maybe this was her chance to have something normal.

"I'll...I'll do it, but," Her hands found her pockets and they dug in, "besides my father being in this whole mess, why me?" Her voice was borderline whiny, but she tried to keep it to a minimum. This whole getting her freedom thing was kind of playing out nicely in the back of her mind.

"Well, that's not really our decision," The blonde man shrugged, finding it hard not to smile. "All we know is that someone probably knows what they're doing."

"Let's hope so," Santana spoke from the side of her mouth, so as to not be heard.

Picking up his hat, Blaine finally stood from his chair. Sam followed suit, placing his hat upon his own head of thick blonde hair. "We'd prefer it if you started immediately, but you can take the rest of the day to gather yourself, some supplies and maybe a few friends. We'll meet you in town tomorrow." After that, they tipped their hats.

"You'll be filled in on the details tomorrow, Miss Lopez." Blaine said upon exiting.

As Santana and Brittany watched them tread the dirt path from the front porch, Blaine turned hesitantly. "Oh and Miss Santana, Miss Pierce?"

Santana quirked her brow in wonder while Blaine licked his lips.

"Thank you," the words nearly silent.

•~•~•

As the sun made its way through the sky, the tension-filled air around Pierce Ranch was palpable. Even Mattie seemed to pick up on the change of emotions. Santana was quiet and caught up in thought, her every feature plagued with a look of concern and anticipation. Brittany, ever sensitive, kept her distance, trying to find the right moment to talk to her.

She couldn't just walk up to her with all of the questions she had bubbling up in her head. Not when she looked like that. She couldn't spill her own anxiety and worries onto Santana.

But still, if she was going to be traveling with an outlaw, she supposed there were things about them she'd want to know, right? It was a legitimate concern.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched Santana from the kitchen doorway. Santana was perched upon the stiff couch in the parlor, wringing her hands together and furrowing her brow. She hadn't moved for a good few hours since the federal men had left.

Mattie was sat beside her, matching Santana's brooding look, but only for the miming childlike quality of it all. She had no idea what things were going through Santana's mind.

Brittany looked out the window closest to her, finding the sun nearly level with the tree line. If she were to get any answers, she would have to try sometime soon.

"Mattie," she began, "why don't you go help George put the horses up for the night and give 'em all a little hay?"

Santana looked up, nearly startled by the break in silence. Mattie didn't protest at all, only nodding as she slid off of the couch by Santana. Her footsteps in her too-big boots sounded like booming thunder rolling to Santana. She knew what was to come, and she dreaded it. She dreaded it so so much.

As soon as Mattie was gone, Brittany took the vacant spot by Santana on the couch. She placed her hands on her lap, smoothing out her semi-smooth buckskin trousers as a means to distract herself and possibly calm her nerves.

To Santana, Brittany was too close, but she didn't make to say anything of it. She deserved this. More importantly, Brittany deserved to know.

"I'm not really all that concerned with what you were like before."

The near whisper of her voice surprised Santana, along with her words.

"But I do want to know if I can trust you, now, Santana." She licked her thin lips cautiously, "I need to know that you're different."

"I am," Santana responded too eagerly, too quickly, her body jumping with her own voice. She hesitated, "I...I am different."

Brown eyes locked onto blues, her words were caught in her throat. Was she different? Of course she was, and if anyone were to be awarded for it, it would have been Brittany. This version of herself that soared when she was around Brittany was who she was meant to be.

"I...I've killed a lot of people, Brittany. I've done a lot of bad, _bad___things in the name of nothing." Her eyes fell and she hesitated for a beat. "...what I did, what I will do, it's not ever going to be something I'm proud of." Santana cleared her throat, shaking her head with a sigh.

"What I am is a mess. A right mess, but..." she chanced a look up again. Eye contact would have to be her way of conveying her trust and her sincerity. It stripped her down to her core. It was her letting Brittany see everything, "I'm cleaning that up because of you. Because you showed me far too much kindness, I somehow ended up with a second chance. I swear I'll try to do it right."

Brittany scanned over her tanned features, searching for any doubt or any lies. "I...I don't know..." Her eyes fell down to her lap as she continued to play with the frayed hide. "Everything I pushed away about you...it was really true? Sully and that doctor? How am I supposed to believe that you've changed?" Her tone grew from curious to slightly accusatory.

Santana bristled at the change. "I..." she couldn't hold Brittany's penetrating stare. "I did what had to be done." She tried to give her voice a backbone, but the words came out far softer and more ashamed.

"I want to believe that you're better than the men we'll be chasing. I want to more than anything." Brittany shifted uncomfortably, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. The whole situation was so overwhelming. "But..." she took a breath to calm herself, "how can I when they've painted you like a murderer and a criminal?"

Not wasting a second, Santana crossed the gap between them, placing her hand on the blonde's shoulder. "What I'm about to tell you isn't going to be exactly what you want to hear, but it's...it's what you need to hear _from me_."

Brittany looked up, eyes red, cheeks red, lips gracefully parted. Even in distress, she was perfectly beautiful to Santana.

"Brittany," she began, "I am...was all of those things, and I don't expect you to understand why I did the things I did." She sighed, "what I did in the past is unimportant now, but everything that I've done has led me to this moment. Led me to you, even. So here we are, about to set off to make a difference. We're about to make an honest difference in this world." Her thumb brushed back and forth over her clothed shoulder. Their eyes were linked by Santana's words, each one putting another link to solidify her intentions. "I'm not the person I used to be, but I've lived a life of experiences, good and bad; and everything I've learned...I swear I'm ready to put it to good use."

Without a second thought, Santana was being pulled into a fierce embrace. "I...I won't ask you about your past. I'm not sure I want to know it all...maybe one day, but not now." She tightened her hold on the girl in black, "We're going to take on this man, and," a grin couldn't stop itself from spreading across her lips, "we're goin' to get you right as rain, Miss Santana."

With conviction, she pulled away and grabbed Santana's hand in her own. That was that, the pact was made.

•~•~•

Eyes wide open, Santana could hear the faint sound of coyotes howling in the crisp night air. She tugged her blanket higher and closer to her chin, shifting for the millionth time. The bed gave a low squeak as she turned over with a loud huff.

"Just fall asleep," she commanded herself. She shut her eyes. Santana Lopez would be damned if she would let nerves get the better of her precious sleeping time. Of course, just as she began to feel the gentle pull of sleep waft over her senses, she was jostled awake by a whimper.

Her eyes shot open, searching for the source of the sound. Her room was empty, at least from what the moonlight afforded her to see. She paused her breathing to listen more intently before she heard it again. This time, it was more stifled, more desperate, much more broken.

Someone was crying in a nearby room.

Slowly and as silently as she could, Santana got out of bed and padded over to her door. She put her ear to it and heard the sobbing continue.

It was coming from Brittany's Pa's room.

Quietly, she cracked the door and peaked her head through the gap. The slim hallway was dark, barely lit by the moon's light cascading the window at the very end. Mr. Pierce's room however harbored the familiar small glow of an oil lamp.

"What am I supposed to do?" Santana could barely make out Brittany's exhausted whisper through her tears. "I'm s-so scared, Pa. What if I can't d-do it?" Her words became broken as she draped herself over her father's barely breathing body. Brittany's question hung in the air, never to be answered by her father.

This was erroneous on two levels for Santana. For one, this was an extremely private and vulnerable moment she was listening in on; and for two, it all started to feel so wrong to take Brittany with her on a mission that was solely asked of her.

Santana worried her bottom lip with her teeth, she didn't want Brittany to be scared. She didn't want Brittany to worry about anything. Most of all, she didn't want Brittany to come on this adventure purely for her sake. She needed bigger reasons.

Maybe she should just leave without her.

Maybe that would be best.

Slowly she shut the door, knowing that if she listened to more of Brittany's uncontrollable cries to her father, that she would never be able to work up the resolve to leave at all.

A bed for the next few hours would do her head an conscious some good.

•~•~•

_August 25, 1911 Pierce Ranch, Texas _

When the sunlight began to filter into her room, Santana groaned. She turned over roughly, trying her best to avoid it. It seemed to chase her, and she could feel its warming rays spilling over her backside. She scooted and scooted until she was met with the edge of her bed.

And then she shot up.

She could only hope Brittany hadn't awoken yet, maybe she could make it ou-

"Good mornin', Darlin'," Santana froze, scrambling to pull her blanket to her chest and look to the source of the sound. A slightly tired but nevertheless chipper Brittany Pierce sat perched upon the chair the right side of the bed. She giggled at Santana's disheveled hair and shock.

Her mouth was probably open for a good while; why was Brittany in her room so early?

"Watch yourself, now. You'll swaller a fly that way if you keep it open too long." She teased, the light playing in her blue eyes tauntingly.

Santana cleared her throat, pushing some of her hair away from her face.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"I just couldn't sleep much is all. Plus," Brittany stretched in the chair and shielded her mouth from the yawn that escaped her, "I figure its rude to keep them government men waitin' too long." She shrugged.

"I came in to wake you a little bit ago, but I couldn't do it. You were sleeping so good." Brittany smiled down to the ground, cheeks somewhat flushing.

Inwardly, Santana could only smile. Brittany had come to watch her sleep.

"Was I cute?" Faking sheepishness, Santana raised her brow and cocked her head to one side.

In retort, Brittany threw a shirt at her and told her to get dressed.

"We've got a lot to do to get ready for today," she walked out of the room, redder than she was before.

•~•~•

"I'll load the rest of these supplies up, you go check and make sure, like double-triple-quad...r...four times sure that you aren't fogettin' anything in your room." Brittany ordered with the wave of her hand as she hoisted up another saddle bag. Poor Jed was probably feeling the weight by now.

Santana nodded, determined to make _quadruple_ sure she didn't lose anything or just altogether forget about something important. She had her guns, her hat, and her bandana. Her vest was secured and, as she checked herself in the mirror, she made fighting crime and catching wanted criminals look good. God damned, good.

She smirked as she glanced over the empty room. It hadn't been much, and she surely hadn't cluttered it up with her own objects, but this room had been the closest thing to a home she'd had in a long, long time. She almost got sentimental about it, but it was just a room. Besides, the best thing about Pierce Ranch was coming with her, after all.

She shut the door to her room, fixed with the idea that she had everything. However, as she started down the hall, something compelled her towards Mr. Pierce's room. She put her hand on the door knob, feeling the cool iron against the palm of her hand. Staring down at her hand, she turned it quietly and let herself in.

He looked so peaceful under the sun rays. So serene and relaxed, at first at least. But when Santana got closer, the frown lines on his face could be made clearer and the slight sadness overtaking his unconscious features shot a pang of grief through Santana. Even sleep could not save him from what he'd lost.

Awkwardly, Santana sat down at the edge of his bed on the small, short stool. She remembered watching Brittany here last night, her uncontrollable sobs racking through her body, and it killed her. She was so scared and just needed her pa to tell her it would be alright.

"I..." what was she going to say to a man that couldn't even listen? "I...don't even know your name, sir. And surely I don't have much to offer your daughter, but I promise to not let her lose you the way I lost my dad. I'm not even sure why I'm here, but I hope you're listening...I won't let anything happen to her, so I wanna strike you a deal." His hand rested outside of the blanket, barely staying on the edge of the bed. It was limp, but warm. She threaded her fingers through his, her hand being swallowed by the immensity of his own. "I promise to bring her back in one piece, if you'll promise to wake up when this is all over."

Santana nearly found herself crying, "she needs you. She's scared and she needs you now." There was some anger behind her words, but she held back. Brittany had told her that he was a good man, so she reckons that if he could have woken up by now, he would have. It still doesn't stop her from being a little mad though. Parents should always be there for their children.

Maybe she was just mad at her own father for leaving her so early.

Life just wasn't fair. Look at what it had made her into.

"I'll hold up my end regardless, you'll just have to trust me. But," she chuckled a little to herself, "You better keep your end up."

It was weird, talking to someone who probably couldn't hear her, but she would be damned if he didn't wake up by the end of this. Even if she didn't make it out alive, she would make sure Brittany had something to come back to. Being dragged into her mess, she felt partly responsible for giving her as grand of a life as possible, even if she wasn't in it.

•~•~•

Everything seemed to be in order, Santana made sure to double check. Jed was looking as fine as a horse could look while burdened by so many supplies. Brittany didn't really understand the notion of traveling light, but a few extra blankets and some rations were a-okay by Santana. Jed would just have to grin and bear it. Brittany's horse, Lucky (100% female) was equally fastened down with saddlebags. Her golden mane and brown fur were stark in contrast, but she was a good horse.

"Lucky almost got shot until my pa saved her a while back. I named her when I was pretty young, and even though she's a little older, I reckon she's just as spry as Jed there." Brittany patted the horse's coat, smoothing her hands over its neck with affection. The smirk that graced her lips bore all the makings of a challenge in Santana's direction.

"Ya'know, if I didn't think Jed needed to save his strength, I would so beat your ass." The glint in her eye did not go unnoticed by the blond. Jed gave a quiet snort. Maybe Santana was just superimposing her own personality on Jed, but he would be damned to be bested by an old mare.

The door to the house squeaked slightly from the hinges as it opened to reveal a tired George and a sad and somewhat confused looking Mattie. George was a tall man, like a son to Mr. Pierce, but quite a bit older than Brittany. His gruff but kind eyes squinted in the sunlight as he placed Mattie's small and delicate hand in his large and rough one before walking her down the porch steps.

Before they can make it slowly down the steps, Mattie takes off in a full sprint, running straight into Santana's gut causing the latter to let out a soft 'oomph'.

"I wanna go with you Miss Santana." Her small voice was shaking with uncertainty, her eyes clearly red from crying. Santana looked down at Mattie's blonde head burying deeply into her torso and they she looked back at Brittany who couldn't stop the grimace from forming on her lips.

Gingerly, she patted the young girl's hair down. She pulled her away by the arms, running her hands down them soothingly. She bent down to Mattie's eye level, "where we're going is...it's a place that's not made for little girls." She tried to choose her words carefully; she took an unsure glance back at Brittany who maintained her spot by Lucky. "Where we'e going...you have to be...tall like a grown up, but we'll be gone for a long time so you'll have to keep everything up and in order for your sister, ok?"

The little girl wiped her eyes, trying to understand why where they were going had a height requirement. Skeptically, she drew back from Santana and crossed her arms.

"You're not very tall though."

Santana was sure she heard Brittany stifle a bout of giggles.

Beaten by a child again, Santana narrowed her eyes. After a beat, her eyes became softer and she plucked her own hat from her head, placing it on Mattie's head.

"Just..." she readjusted it so she could look into Mattie's face, "you're in charge of the ranch, ok?" She was engulfed in a hug from the young girl so fierce, she was nearly sure that the ranch would be in good hands. George smiled down at her as Mattie left Santana's side and Brittany picked her up to pepper her face with kisses.

Santana stood from her crouch slowly. George's heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder as his rough and deep voice sounded, "you keep her safe, but you take care of yourself too. Both of those girls are stronger than they look." He squeezed her shoulder before heading towards Brittany to collect Mattie.

After their goodbyes, Santana and Brittany mounted their respectful horses, ready to finally meet the lawmen who would guide their journey.

"What about your hat?" Brittany asked.

"Eh, I'll just buy a new one later."

•~•~•

_Same day, Rio Vista, Texas_

They made good time, finding themselves in Rio Vista at the local bar before long. They hung up their reins close to the saloon doors.

"Make sure we keep them where we can see them." Santana warned.

"I doubt anything will happen to them, Santana." Brittany replied airily.

"I used to _steal_ horses, Brittany, with this many supplies, we need to keep them in sight." She replied smoothly, pulling a nice knot around the hitching post.

"Right," Brittany breathed out.

"Never too early for a drink, am I right ladies?" The familiar voice from yesterday caught Santana mid-tie.

"Gentlemen," she answered with a forceful tug and shake of the head.

Brittany was already on her way in with Sam while Blaine walked over to Santana. She turned as he extended his hand. In his hand was a hat nearly identical to the one she'd given Mattie, only newer.

"Thought you might need this," he handed it over while he guided a shocked Santana into the saloon.

The government was everywhere.

They sat at a small roundtable just made for the four of them. Blaine was swirling a bit of tea in his cup while Sam conversed freely about the weather in this part of the United States being far different from New York. Brittany engaged with him more because she was from this area and more familiar with the people, the air, and the weather.

Soon however, Blaine was ready to get to the matter at hand.

"I think we've wasted enough time," he said somewhat rudely interrupting the two blondes. "It's time we get down to business."

He opened a small brown leather satchel at his feet, retrieving from it, papers and documents. Santana inwardly snickered at all of the careful preparation they must have gone through.

"I'll keep this as brief as possible, because timing is likely to be of the utmost importance," he side-glanced towards Sam with a vicious intent. Apparently, Blaine was a stickler to everything pompous or something.

"We don't know much of Cabrera's whereabouts, at current; however," he pulled out what appeared to be a map of the surrounding states and territories, "we do know of some contacts he's had within the passed month or so. First," his fingers traveled down the browned, warn paper, crumpled where it had been folded before, "I suggest you start in Col-"

"Hold up," Santana abruptly interrupted, "you expect us to go on a wild goose chase for a wild goose that will lead us to another wild goose?" Her brows scrunched together, clearly unhappy. "You realize all of these leads could take _years_ to find this guy? People can move around a lot in a _month_."

He tapped his fingers upon the table top, "as we're well aware, Santana."

"We assure you that the trails we send you on won't be worthless." Sam assuaged.

"Alright," Brittany started, "where are we headed then?"

"Colorado." Blain supplied albeit shortly, bitter about being interrupted so often. Santana and him were still engaged in some sort of glaring competition, Brittany was convinced of that much.

A man passed by their table causing Blaine to surreptitiously hide some of the documents and files he held. He hunched over the table further so he could quiet his voice. "We've labeled out the path here on this map, but according to our scouts and sources, you'll be seeking out Jacob Bin Israel. We've heard he's quite unassuming, so I would be on your guard."

"Speaking of on your guard," a chair was noisily pulled up between Brittany and Sam. Down plopped Deputy Noah Puckerman into the chair wearing every bit the cat's grin. "Puckerman here, at your service." Mocking a bow, he also tipped his hat.

"You have got to be kidding me," the outlaw huffed lowly, putting her face in her palms. Brittany rubbed over her shoulders.

"Puck, why are you here?" The fair skinned woman asked genuinely curious. She turned to the lawmen, "you do realize he nearly shot his own foot off last year? I don't mean to be rude, but I think we can handle it."

Samuel was about to speak before Santana interjected, "Oh please, Brittany. We're both women. Poor, defenseless, _women_ and to these men, that must obviously mean that we need help. I honestly don't know how I saddled up a horse, loaded up my rifle, and managed to make it here. By the gods, Brittany, I've amnesia, I can't remember how I did it." Brittany tried not to chuckle, but Santana's over-the-top display was fascinating, but also alarmingly correct. Or so it seemed. 

Sam looked around the saloon, noticing that the eyes of other patrons were upon them. "Miss Santana if you'll just settle down, I will tell you why Mr. Puckerman has offered his services to you two."

"I've heard plenty of his reputation around here to know about his _services_ offered. No thank you." She crossed her arms, while Noah scowled.

Matching her striking eyes and dangerous posture, Noah also crossed his arms, "hush your mouth before I take back my offer." His brows lowered upon his forehead, seemingly hurt.

"Noah here is an expert in traveling to Colorado." Same explained. "He says he has some family there that he frequents as often as he can. It's in your best interest to have someone who knows the lay of the land," he pointed to the map. "The track is long and it _is_ gang country all along the way. You of all people should know that an extra gun can make all the difference."

Even though she didn't like it, she knew that Sam was right. She had been in her fair share of situations that more than proved his point. "Alright, Big Lips. I'll bite this." She turned quickly towards Noah, "not a quip about that from you, understood?"

He straightened in his chair and nodded with wide eyes. What exactly did he agree to?

Blaine reached into a bigger bag on the floor, producing two black wool coats. They were single breasted, one longer than the other. "I perused your saddlebags and other carry on supplies you brought and didn't see anything for the weather. I don't think either of you to be that stupid. Perhaps absent-minded," he pushed them across the tabletop. "Colorado has a diverse climate, but it gets far colder than you'll be used to Miss Pierce."

Brittany accepted the longer of the two coats, standing and pulling it away from herself to look at it. It was nice, but not as nice as some of the others she'd left at home. I guess the coat was an oversight. At least she had remembered the blankets.

"Do I get a coat?" Puckerman spoke up.

"Don't you go to Colorado all the time?" Blaine questioned.

"Of course!" he defended as he stood from the table. "Well, I think we'd best be goin', ladies." He stretched and yawned as the others stood as well.

Sam however, did not stand. Instead, he reached into the pile of Blaine's papers and pulled a fountain pen from his waistcoat. "There is one more order of business, actually."

"What's that?" Santana asked, picking her hat up from the table.

"It's a promissory note, Santana." Blaine announced. "Think of it as a sort of contract." His smile nearly as greasy as his hair. He scooted the page over towards Santana while Sam prepared one for Brittany. She took the fountain pen between her fingers before she was stopped by Santana.

"No, you don't sign anything." She placed her hand upon Brittany's. "I'm sure this has some sort of a catch or something, and," she paused looking away for a moment, "this is on me, not you."

"Alright then, drama aside, I think you can just sign right there." His finger halted right above the signature line.

"Essentially," Sam spelled out, "this is ensuring that, after you do what we ask, you will be pardoned on all crimes." Santana studied his smile, twirling the pen in her fingertips. He seemed far more genuine and trustworthy than Blaine, but she guess it was all an act on Blaine's part...he was pretty short after all.

The pen floated across the paper as she signed her signature, binding her to the ever expanding federal government.

•~•~•

The road to colorado began, perhaps bumpier than it should have. Puck made constant passes to Santana _and_ Brittany making both of them equally uncomfortable and jealous. Santana wouldn't admit it outright, but Brittany's subtle jealousy, due to her non-confrontational nature, was giving her a kick.

Upon Noah's suggestion, they decided to ride longer than they normally would on the first day. The average twenty miles was expanded to thirty. It was a stretch, but feasible under the cooler temperatures. They took regular rests when they found water for the horses and needed to get off of the saddle for a bit to stretch their own legs.

They reached their approximated distance not too late into the night. The wolves and coyotes were howling fiercely, however. Santana remembered why she hated being out in the desert at night.

"Thank god we're stopping. Jed looks exhausted. Aren't you, bud?" She ran her fingers through his mane as she stopped at a nice, open clearing amongst the cacti.

"Let me help you down there, Miss Brittany," Noah scurried towards Lucky, pulling Brittany down from the saddle. However as soon she was on the ground, Santana heard a slap louder than thunder.

"Noah Puckerman!"

Santana whipped around quickly, drawing her gun at a startled Noah. "Listen here, Rat Head. I assure you that my aim is much better than yours in _any_ capacity. With a gun or otherwise, so I suggest you sit your Jewish ass down on the dusty ground, or so help me I will find ways to make your death look like an accident. And trust me, with your record, it would be easy."

After the incident, Noah knew not to let any wandering hands finder any firm asses. The night went rather smoothly. They set up their tent and a small fire to heat up some food and coffee. For Noah's transgressions, he was volunteered for first watch.

The desert is cold. _Really_ cold when the sun isn't around, but Santana is sure that the chattering teeth she hears from Brittany isn't entirely just from the brisk temperatures. "You ok, Britt?" She moved closer to the girl wrapped in her blanket. Santana wiggled until she could throw a side of her blanket over the shivering blond, "here."

"Thanks," Brittany uttered, snuggling surprisingly closely into Santana. "It's just so big out here, ya'know?"

Santana smiled warmly, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around her friend. "It is pretty big, huh? But you get used to it. I mean," she looked down, causing Brittany to look up into her eyes, "it's so beautiful out here, Britt."

Her heart rate quickened. They were so close. Close just like they were on the carriage. Brittany continued to stare into her eyes, seemingly drawing her closer and closer. She could feel the warmth of her body, but all she wanted to feel was the warmth of her lips.

They moved in closer until there was a hair's breadth between their lips, but Jed, grazing a few feet away let out a particularly loud snort that startled them apart.

Brittany was the first to break into giggles, and Santana soon followed. They laughed for a bit until it was over and Santana let a lengthy sigh escape. "Thank you...for coming with me and all."

Brittany shifted so that her head was on Santana's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall. "I figure if I hadn't, you'd be dead by now." She laughed when Santana playfully swatted at her.

"Go to sleep, you goof."

•~•~•

_August 25, 1911 Somewhere on the road to Colorado-Still in Texas_

They awoke in the morning, extinguished their fire, and folding up their blankets. Santana and Brittany were exchanging long looks from across their camp all morning, and Noah was starting to notice.

"I see how it is, you two can make all fine and like with each other, but I try and I get my life threatened. I see. I see how it is." Truthfully, he played the part well of a scorned man, but the girls couldn't have cared less.

For the second day of their trip, Noah led the way. They weren't going to be out of Texas for a long while, the state going on for days and days much like the legs of a certain Blonde Santana kept her eyes on. What she wouldn't give to see them out of that buckskin.

So many obstacles.

She sighed, the trip being pretty silent thus far. As she looked up to Noah, however, his hand was held up in a halting signal. She slowed her horse, and Brittany did the same. They came to stand alongside Puck.

"What's wrong?" Brittany whispered, looking over the rocks that separated them from the scene ahead.

"Up there," Noah motioned with his chin. "Bandits."

"Oh great, what are we going to play the vigilante to the poor people being robbed? Come on, we have bigger fish to fry." Santana patted his shoulder in agitation.

"No, Santana. It's my duty." Puck relented.

"Yeah, San. We should help them." Her blue eyes pleaded with Santana's harsher gaze.

"Oh alright." She sighed, remembering Blaine's warning about time being important. If they made this quick, it wouldn't be a big deal.

They moved in closer, leaving their horses hitched behind a large rock. She looked up at the eccentrically designed carriage being rifled through by bandana wearing, gun toting men. She surveyed the people on the ground, tied together. One boy and one girl, both crying profusely in nonsense.

A pang of annoyance shot through her as she looked bat the carriage and then to her two counterparts.

"So what can we do to help the," she looked at the carriage, "_The Hummelberry Traveling Delights_?"

A/N: Try not to worry too much about Bram everyone, and once again I'm so sorry for the long wait! Comments, or concerns? Let me know!

Review if you feel like it! :D

Have a great Holiday Season! I'll try to update before the year is over, but if it doesn't work out, it doesn't.

Cheers!


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